by Judi Lynn
“Not the way you’re thinking, not with other women.” Olivia drained her wine glass and pushed her empty plate away. She was a careful eater most of the time—always watching her calories—but not when they went out. “Donovan didn’t go to Thanksgiving at his parents’ last year because he thought his dad borrowed the company truck to make some money on the side, moving suspicious stuff for some guys he knew.”
Jazzi felt herself tense. “For Ronnie, Jarrett, and Boscoe?”
Olivia shrugged. “Donovan never mentioned names, but he worried his dad pulled shady deals every once in a while. He didn’t want to get caught in the middle of any of it.”
“Did his mom know?”
“She suspected, but when she tries to talk to Ray about anything, he just tells her to mind her own business.”
“But that is her business! She’s married to him.”
The waitress came with their bills and Olivia handed across her debit card. Jazzi paid cash and added a generous tip. When the waitress left, Olivia gave Jazzi a knowing look. “Ray doesn’t much care what his wife thinks.”
Jazzi leaned closer and kept her voice down. “Could Ray have done something that got Donovan in trouble?”
Olivia pursed her lips, considering the idea. “I don’t see how.”
“I don’t either.” But Jazzi wasn’t ruling it out. “Can I share this with Gaff?”
“If it helps solve who killed Donovan, sure.”
The waitress returned with Olivia’s tab and card, and after Olivia finished signing it, they left. On the way home, Jazzi kept thinking about Donovan and his parents. Ronnie had gone to prison for stealing refrigerators from a company he worked at. Had Ray driven the truck to move the stolen goods? Even if he had, how would that affect Donovan?
When she got home, she couldn’t wait to share her ideas with Ansel, but when she opened the garage door, his spot was still empty. He and “the boys” must be having fun. She parked her pickup on her side of the space and started toward the house. She’d only gone a few steps when a cat meowed at her. Had Inky or Marmalade slipped outside somehow? She glanced at the side of the building, and hidden in the shadows, a gray cat crouched over an empty plastic bowl. A stray? Where had he come from? And who’d fed him?
Just then, Ansel’s van came down the drive, so she waited for him. When he and Bain walked toward her, the cat stared at Bain and yowled. Bain glanced at Ansel and her, looking guilty.
“Is he yours?” Ansel asked.
Color crept all the way to Bain’s hairline. “He was so thin, I felt sorry for him. I’ve been putting food out for him when I take my evening walks around the pond, but if you don’t want a stray hanging around, I’ll quit.”
Jazzi bent and the cat let her pet him. “Poor thing, it’s so cold, he probably needs to be fed twice a day. We should give him dry food when we leave in the mornings, too.”
Ansel nodded. “I’ll buy a bag to keep in the garage so Bain can just scoop it in his bowl.”
Bain smiled. A rare sight. “Thanks. He’s a scrappy little guy. I kinda like him. If I ever get to go home, I might take him with me. We could use fresh genes for our barn cats.”
Ansel’s blond brows rose in surprise. He’d told her their dad didn’t believe in coddling the cats on their farm, said they had to earn their keep or starve. Jazzi had a feeling Bain snuck them food on the side. Jazzi was starting to like the man a little more.
When they bundled into the kitchen, their own pets came to greet them. While Jazzi and Ansel fussed over the cats and George, Bain carried a large bowl of cat food out for his stray. Once everyone got settled, Jazzi shared what Olivia had told her about Donovan and his family.
“It makes me wonder if Ray’s shady deals put Donovan in jeopardy.”
Ansel shook his head. “I keep thinking that Didi and Donovan are connected somehow. I don’t see how Donovan’s dad would fit in for either of them.”
Jazzi had no idea, but she decided to run the idea past Gaff tomorrow.
Chapter 14
Ansel, Jazzi, Bain, and Jerod were sanding the last wall on Friday when Gaff gave a quick knock and walked inside the old Victorian.
“Did I time it right for a sandwich?” he asked. “It’s almost noon.”
“Sure. Have a seat.” Jerod grabbed an extra lawn chair and pulled it to the card table. Their lunch was nothing fancy. Jazzi had made a lot of tuna salad when she got up in the morning and brought bread to heap it on so that the sandwiches wouldn’t get soggy sitting in the cooler. And wouldn’t you know it? The men oohed and aahed and ate every last bite. Sometimes, she could go to a lot of bother and only get good reviews and then make something simple that they raved over. She’d have to make tuna salad more often.
Gaff reached for a few more chips before saying, “I went to see Jarrett this morning—the guy who got out of prison with Ronnie. He’s working as a grease monkey, getting free rent in an apartment above the garage.”
Jerod took car repairs seriously. His dad was a mechanic, so he’d grown up poking under hoods or on a dolly, rolling under chassis. “Has he got credentials?”
“He tinkered with his dad all the time in their garage.”
Jerod shrugged, unimpressed.
“Learn anything interesting?” Ansel asked.
“He went to prison for moving stolen goods out of state.”
Moving them how? Jazzi couldn’t hide her excitement. She told him about the conversation she’d had with Olivia.
“Donovan’s dad, huh? So far, his name hasn’t come up in any of the conversations I’ve had with Gil’s old friends.”
Ansel shook his head. “Walker went out with us last night. He said Gil didn’t count any of those guys as friends. The only person he was close to was Ronnie.”
Gaff didn’t look surprised. “Jarrett didn’t strike me as a good friend for anyone. I asked him about Ronnie, if he was part of the stolen goods job, but Jarrett said he only did small stuff with him—hot wiring cars or muggings. Nothing big. Said the boy wasn’t smart enough for anything elaborate.”
That’s the impression Jazzi had gotten when she met him. “Ronnie might not be smart, but he struck me as sneaky.”
“I asked Jarrett about someone ratting him out, and he swore no one would do that. But he would say that, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t let on that he suspected someone.” Gaff took a few more chips, then washed them down with Pepsi.
“Do you think he’ll go after whoever tipped the cops on him?” Ansel asked.
Gaff looked thoughtful. “My cop intuition tells me there’s more to it than that. The man’s nursing a grudge. He can hardly keep his voice calm when he talks about his old group. Something’s festering, but I’m not sure what, and Jarrett’s not the type to let bygones be bygones.”
Jazzi collected the dirty paper plates to throw away. “Did he know Donovan? Did you ask about him?”
Gaff nodded. “I asked. He played dumb, asked if Donovan was in the pen, too. When I mentioned Didi, he laughed, said Gil sure knew how to pick ‘em. Said Didi dumped Gil the minute he landed in the pen; whereas, his girlfriend fiddled around with another guy until he got out, then she dumped the loser and ran to him.”
Ansel frowned. “So Donovan’s first girlfriend had a connection to Jarrett? And Jarrett was the guy who took over protecting Ronnie when Gil died?”
“Interesting, huh? Brianne was there when I talked to him, and boy, did she look like a piece of work!” Gaff got quiet for a minute, then said, “I asked him if he’d heard that Didi’s house kept getting broken into and he asked if she was all right, said it wasn’t safe for a pretty girl like her to live in a rundown neighborhood, that she should know better.”
“So he knows where she lives.” Jazzi pressed her lips together in an unhappy line.
“I told him the neighborhood wasn’t posh, but it was usually s
afe.”
Jerod leaned his elbows on the table and hunched his shoulders. He could be protective of his friends, and he didn’t look happy with where this conversation was going. “Jarrett doesn’t know Didi’s living with Walker, does he?”
Gaff shook his head. “And I think we should keep it that way. She needs to stay away from her house so no one can follow her.”
“I’ll remind Walker of that,” Ansel said.
With a nod, Gaff stood. “I’m going to see Gil’s cellmate on Monday. He’s out of town right now, got permission from his probation officer to visit his sick brother. I’ll let you know how that goes.”
Bain perked up when Gaff mentioned special permission for someone to leave town. He hurried to say, “It sounds like you have enough suspects now that I might be lower on your list. I talked to my dad last night, and he’s having a hard time without me. If I’d wear an ankle bracelet, could I go home and help him on the farm?”
Gaff gave him a long look, then sighed. “Let me talk to a few people first. I’ll give you an answer on Monday.”
Bain didn’t push it, probably knew better.
When Gaff left, all four of them went for a cup of coffee and looked at each other.
“Is this one depressing mess or what?” Jerod asked.
No one could disagree, so they drank their coffee, then got back to work. By the time they left the house that night, every wall was sanded and the work site picked up and clean.
Chapter 15
On their drive home, Ansel wore his brooding look. When her Norseman fretted, he reminded Jazzi even more of a Viking. She wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that scowl. Sleet pelted the windshield and the streets were slippery. It would be March soon, and February had decided to go out with a roar, not a whimper, but that obviously wasn’t what was on Ansel’s mind. He said, “It’s too much of a coincidence that all of these guys knew each other and crap started to happen when they got out.”
She’d been turning those ideas over and upside down in her mind, too.
Bain spoke up from the back seat. George was lying with his head on his lap, and Bain mindlessly petted him. “Everything’s connected somehow, but Donovan doesn’t seem to be a part of any of it. I wish we could follow the dots that tied him to one of these guys.”
Jazzi knew from experience that connecting dots took a lot of work and patience. “Do you think we’re trying to connect two crimes that aren’t tied to each other? Didi and Donovan don’t seem to go together.”
“They have to,” Ansel argued. “Prison has to be part of it. We just don’t see how yet.”
He was right. They had to be.
A car skidded through a red light into the intersection and Ansel had to slam on the brakes. He’d been driving at a snail’s pace, but the van still slid sideways, so he feathered the brakes to correct it. They all heaved a sigh of relief when their front tire bumped against the curb and stopped.
“We’re staying home for supper tonight,” Jazzi announced. “No use going out in this.” She loved their Friday nights out, but not enough to risk life and limb.
“Did you thaw something?” Ansel eased through the last intersection before turning onto their street.
“I have plenty of things I can nuke enough to cook. It might not be gourmet, but we won’t go hungry.”
Bain snorted. “Anything you make has to be better than Mom’s.”
Jazzi’s eyes flew wide. She’d never heard Bain complain about his mother’s cooking. Ansel laughed. “Poor Mom, she tries.”
“Not very much.” Bain patted his stomach. “You guys have spoiled me. It’s going to be hard to go back to meatloaf with no flavor once a week and spaghetti with a can of tomato sauce poured over it.”
“We Herstad boys appreciate good cooking. We’ll help you in the kitchen tonight.” Ansel volunteered his brother, too, and Bain nodded. He slowed almost to a crawl to turn into their driveway and park in the garage. He was carrying George to the house and Bain was carting the cooler when the stray cat flew out of the woods, running full speed toward them. His tail was gone. A coyote came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the tree line when it saw them. A furry tail hung from its lips.
Bain put down the cooler and held out his arms. The cat leapt right into them, and Bain turned to glare at the coyote. It slunk away.
Jazzi picked up the cooler. “You might as well bring your cat inside. He’s not safe out here.”
“You don’t mind?”
“My cats might not be nice to him, but they won’t eat him. That coyote will.” She turned to Ansel. “Should we take him to the vet to do something about his tail?”
Bain shook his head. “A couple of farm cats lost their tails and healed just fine. He’ll be okay.” He took the cat straight to the laundry room to show it where the litter box was. The cat clung to his wool coat with its claws, and it took a lot of petting to calm it down. Inky and Marmalade hissed at it for a few minutes, then wandered into the kitchen to weave around Jazzi’s ankles, begging for food.
She laughed and bent to stroke their fur. Mealtime was more important than upping a rival. Inky was all smooth silky sleekness. Marmalade was heavy fluff. After they were satisfied with enough attention, she opened a can of tuna and split it between them. She carried two paper plates to Bain along with the bag of dry food and another can for his stray.
Bain frowned at Inky and Marmalade. “They’re going to give Stubs a hard time. Maybe I should keep him in the basement.”
“Stubs.” She smiled. “I like that. The basement’s a good idea. When he feels more comfortable, he can come up and brave my beasts. We have an extra pet bed if you want to take it down there.”
Bain and Stubs disappeared down the basement steps, then he returned to get all of the pet supplies. She noticed he took an antibiotic salve with him, too, and smiled. He gave a sheepish look, then asked, “Do you have another litter box and more litter?”
“They’re in the basement pantry where we keep extra supplies. We bought a spare box when we weren’t sure our cats would share, but they didn’t need it.”
Bain disappeared again. She and Ansel headed upstairs to take quick showers and change into sweat pants and loose sweaters. Then they returned to the kitchen to see what they could scrounge up. There were smoked sausage links and a head of cabbage. She always stocked cans of diced tomatoes.
“Sausage-cabbage soup?” she asked. “We have a round of crusty bread we can thaw.”
“I love soups.” Ansel licked his lips.
That reminded her. “I want to make some big pots to share with Jerod and Franny so they don’t have to cook for a while, and I thought I’d dish up plastic containers for Radley, too.”
The kitchen door had opened while she talked and Radley stepped inside. “I’m all for that. I’ll pitch in if you need me. We’ll help you cook as many as you want if you have what you need.”
“What are you doing here?” Ansel asked. “I thought you were going to Walker’s tonight for supper.”
“He lives way out south. He called to say the roads are worse on his side of town. Thane and I worked on a furnace about ten minutes from here, so I thought I’d stop and beg for food from you guys instead. I knew you’d have to feed Bain.”
“There’s an extra bed if you want to spend the night.” Jazzi grabbed handfuls of potatoes to put on the countertop.
Radley grinned. “Just like the old days. I might take you up on that. The sand and salt trucks will have things in better shape tomorrow morning.”
Bain came up to join them, and they all settled around the kitchen island and got busy. While she started the sausage and cabbage soup, Ansel and his brothers worked on potato soup, chopping potatoes, carrots, and celery, along with an onion. They tossed those in the pot. Once they got it simmering, Bain opened a package of diced ham and stirred it in.
&
nbsp; Ansel frowned. “I like my soup a little thicker.”
Jazzi pointed to the pantry shelves. “Add some instant potatoes until it’s how you like it.”
Radley blinked. “You don’t add flour or cornstarch?”
Jazzi was stirring the chunks of sausage links she’d put in the Dutch oven. “Nope, with instant potatoes I don’t have to worry about lumps.”
All three men stared as Ansel tilted the box over the soup and stirred it in. They all grinned as the soup thickened.
Jazzi rolled her eyes. It was too easy to impress the Herstad boys. “One soup down, two to go. Now you can finish this one while I start on the white chicken chili. I already have all the cabbage and onions chopped for you to add to the sausage.”
“Did you soak beans and thaw a chicken?” Radley asked.
He overestimated her dedication to cooking. “I’m lazier than that. You should know that by now.” Jazzi opened the freezer and pulled out a bag of shredded chicken. “I bought three rotisseries chickens and bagged the meat I pulled off them.” She went to the pantry and put three cans of northern beans and two small cans of mild diced green chiles on the counter. “The beans turn out perfect every time.”
Radley shook his finger at her. “Now you’re teasing me.”
“Don’t bet on it. Start opening cans.”
Bain laughed at the look on Radley’s face and began melting butter and stirring in flour to make a roux.
“Look at you.” Radley took out his cell phone and snapped a picture. “Mom will never believe you helped in the kitchen.”
“Don’t send that to her. She’ll expect me chop and dice at home.”
Jazzi only half-listened to their banter while she snuck George a piece of chicken. Sheesh! She was getting as bad as Ansel.
Radley shook his head, smiling, when they finished cooking fifteen minutes later. “That was quick. I thought it would take forever.”
“I use shortcuts. Once in a great while, I’ll make a bean soup from scratch with dried beans and a ham hock for Ansel, but only once in a while.” Jazzi went to get four bowls. “Choose any soup you want. There’s bread and cheese on the table.”
